


On this Strange and Mournful Day

by Redrikki



Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics), Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Darth Vader (Comics)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 21:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12396849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrikki/pseuds/Redrikki
Summary: The events of Vader Down go very differently. The father and son reunion is only a motion away.





	On this Strange and Mournful Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Star Wars Fictober challenge 21 'family.' Title comes from Paul Simon's "Mother and Child Reunion." 
> 
>  
> 
> _No I would not give you no false hope_  
>  on this strange and mournful day  
> for the mother and child reunion  
> is only a motion away

Aphra hadn’t known what to expect when they finally captured Skywalker, but Darth Vader gently stroking back his hair definitely wasn’t it. He carefully gripped Skywalker’s chin, turning his face this way and that. The kid had a mole under his lip. Vader’s fingers hovered above it like he was afraid to touch. It was by far the weirdest prisoner inspection ever and it was kind of creeping Aphra out.

“Ah, boss?”

“He looks so much like her,” Vader said, more to himself than to Aphra.

Like who now? Aphra exchanged a look with Triple-Zero. The droid’s face was as metal and inscrutable as always, but Aphra imagined he felt as confused as she did. None of this was going like she’d figured. Skywalker destroyed the Death Star and, more impressively, he’d gone toe to toe with Boba Fett and lived to tell the tale. A man with a rep like that should be at least half as impressive as tall, dark, and lurk-some there, not some fluffy-haired farm boy. Strapped to the acceleration couch in _Ark Angel_ ’s galley with Darth Vader looming over him, Aphra almost felt sorry for the kid. Almost. Better him than her.

“Lord Vader, shall I wake him up so we can begin the interrogation?” Triple-Zero shuffled forward and rested his hand on their captive’s shoulder. He probably had a few drugs which could return Skywalker to consciousness with varying degrees of unpleasantness. “I have some exciting new techniques I’d like to try out.”

The temperature plummeted as the air suddenly became difficult to breath. The hairs on the back of Aphra’s neck stood up and the kid whimpered in his sleep. “Touch him again and I will crush you into scrap.”

“My word!” Triple-Zero wisely removed his hand before Vader removed it for him. “That’s gratitude for you.” The droid shot her a wounded look and trundled off, presumably to commiserate with BeeTee about the fickleness of organics.

Aphra frowned as Vader resumed his inspection. Luke Skywalker was a dangerous Rebel with an enormous bounty on his head. If they weren’t going to torture and or brutally murder him, then what was the plan here? “Boss—”

“Silence! He’s waking up.”

It was as slow climb back to consciousness. Vader leaned in close for every twitching finger and fluttering eyelash like he thought the kid was going to make a break for it. Skywalker mainly just groaned and shifted listlessly against the straps. Then his eyes snapped open as he realized he was tied to the chair. He stared at Vader with appropriately wide-eyed terror.

“Hey there, sunshine,” Aphra said with a little wave.

Skywalker’s frightened gaze darted from Vader to her and back again. He was struggling in earnest now, his breath coming in frantic puffs. 

“Calm yourself, young one.” Vader squeezed Skywalker’s shoulder in a way which probably didn’t help on that front. “You will not be harmed. We have much to discuss.”

The words were like a switch, flipping the boy from terror to outrage. “Discuss?!” He shook off Vader’s hand. If looks were lightsabers, they’d be dueling right now. Or maybe Vader would already be dead, Skywalker’s anger was just the intense. “You killed my father. You killed Ben!”

“Ben?” Vader cocked his head.

“Ben Kenobi. Or did you forget him too.”

“Yes, I killed Kenobi, but do not believe his lies. Your father lives.”

“You’re a liar!” He yelled, straining against his bonds and glaring for all he was worth.

“No, Luke, I am your father.”

“What? How? What?” That just…didn’t make any sense. The Emperor’s red right hand had a son. A Rebel son. A Rebel son who blew up the Death Star. How had Aphra not known this? How was it not all over the Holonet? How had Vader even fathered a child in the first place? Mother of moons, someone had sex with that thing! “Ugh, ick.” Aphra shuddered at the thought. 

Luckily for her continued existence, the two of them were too caught up in their family drama notice her little outburst. “No. No.” Skywalker shook his head. “That’s not true. That’s impossible!”

“Search your feelings, Luke. You know it to be true.” 

As arguments went, it was pretty weak. Skywalker continued to shake his head. “Anakin Skywalker was a good man. A Jedi.” He impaled Vader with a scathing look. “You’re a monster.” His voice broke on the word. 

Harsh. Not wrong, but harsh. And not a particularly politic thing to say to a man with a reputation for Force choking anyone who annoyed him. Aphra took a half-step back and waited for the explosion. 

It didn’t come. Vader simply inclined his head, accepting the title as his due. “Anakin Skywalker was a weak, foolish child. I am the man my Masters have made me.”

Masters. Skywalker winced at that word and his face crumpled. Was he crying? Yeah, his dad was a murder, but who’s parents weren’t a huge disappointment? Aphra’s father had let her down more times than she could count. It was nothing worth crying about. Skywalker caught her eye. His gaze pleaded with her to make it better or at least make it stop.

Somehow, against her better judgement, Aphra found herself helping. Without any conscious thought, her mouth opened and words came spilling out. “Hey, boss, if you’re his dad, then who’s his mom? Where’s Mrs. Vader?”

Baby Vader turned back to his father and raised his chin like a challenge. There was an extended pause before Vader answered. “Your mother’s name was Padmé Amidala.”

Well, that certainly explained Aphra’s little chat with Commodex Tahn and why father and son hadn’t met before. The question was, who had come up with Tahn’s deception? The Emperor? Amidala’s family? This Kenobi person? Aphra cocked her head as she studied Skywalker. Except for his coloring and his chin, he really did look like the holos of Senator Amidala.

Skywalker narrowed his eyes. “What did you do to her?”

“I loved her,” Vader said simply. If you had asked her an hour ago, Aphra would have said it wasn’t possible, that a man like him was incapable of such emotion. Now she wasn’t so sure. There was a man under all that armor, possibly with blond hair and a chin not unlike Skywalker’s. Who knew what he was capable of?

“She was my wife and I loved her.” Vader stared off into the past, back when he was married to a senator. “She was kind, brave, beautiful.” He came back to the present with a sigh. “You are very much like her,” he said, gently stroking his son’s cheek.

Skywalker shuddered under his father’s touch. He slumped in his bonds as the fight left him. “What do you want with me?” he asked dully.

“You are my son. I want to know you.”

That was almost touching. Skywalker nodded slowly, not that he had much choice being tied to a chair and all. What kind of fun father-son bonding would a violent, Imperial cyborg and his Rebel son get up to? Aphra and her dad usually wasted time together chasing after the Ordu Aspectu during those rare moments when he remembered she existed. Somehow she doubted the Vaders or Skywalkers or whatever they were called were into archaeology.

“Good. Then together, we shall destroy my Master and bring peace to the galaxy.”

Okay, yeah. That sounded more like it. Today had been pretty crazy, but Aphra really should have seen that coming.


End file.
